


The War’s Never Done

by angededesespoir



Series: Mc76 Week [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Pnigophobia, Smoking, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9325697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: Sometimes Jack's anxiety is too much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _For Day 4- Trust. (For clarification- Jesse’s about 19 or 20 here.) So, Jesse & Jack aren’t together in this, but they share a bonding moment. Jesse’s trying to be supportive, trying to befriend him._
> 
>  
> 
> _(Can be read on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/155871603240/the-wars-never-done).)_

It feels like an eternity before their questions come to an end. Most of them aren’t pleasant. Most he can’t answer one-hundred percent truthfully or even near completely. He does his best to keep his composure, to keep the words flowing with practiced ease.

When he steps down from the podium, tries to make a beeline for the exit, like always, there’s at least a few press, a few officials, who like to try to corner him, pry more information from him.

He has his orders, and an image he needs to protect. He smiles and politely tries to navigate around the interrogation, squelch it before it spirals out of his control. 

Already, his hands are starting to tremble, his heart is still pounding, everything’s becoming too much. He _needs_ to leave.

He wraps up his current conversation, trying his best not to sound rushed or distracted. He hopes they didn’t notice the physical signs starting to manifest.

He’s walking down the empty hall, an area closed off to most people. It’s too narrow, too stifling. By the time he reaches the door to the outside, he feels like he’s suffocating. 

He opens the door, takes a step outside. The cold air hits him, and he can’t tell if it’s worse or better. His body feels both freezing and burning as he takes a shaky breath in, lets it out, trying to slow down.

He hears the sound of boots shifting and, startled, jerks his head in the direction of the sound.

It takes him a few seconds to register and process the presence. ( _’Too much time,’_ he thinks. _‘You could get yourself killed.’_ Maybe he is getting rusty from all this desk work.) 

“J-Jesse.” He tries to compose himself, but his chest still feels tight, his nerves tingling, muscles clenching in involuntary spasm..

The man lowers the cigarette from his mouth, eyes looking him over. “You okay there, Commander?”

“Yeah,” he lies, because at this point it’s second nature having to conceal these things. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed some air.”

Jesse nods slowly, still eyeing him. “I’m sure those press conferences can get mighty stiflin’. Takes a special type of person to put up with them. You did real good out there. Well, at least from what I saw.” He takes a quick drag, smiles. “I needed some air, too.”

Jack nods, forces a slight smile as he tries to regulate his breathing. “Thank you, Jesse.”

Normally he’s better with words, better with putting on a façade. Right now, he can barely think. His lungs burn and everything feels too much for his senses. He needs to be alone, but he doesn’t know how to ask, worries how it would come off. (There’s a part of him that doesn’t want to be alone, too. He desperately wishes that he hadn’t lost Ana in the crowd. He could use her company, her grounding words.)

“This happen to you often?” Jesse asks, gesturing at him. He doesn’t sound condescending or judgmental, simply curious and concerned.

Jack hesitates, doesn’t know how to reply. Very few people know about his problem. The people who do, he’s worked with for years. He feels at ease around them, trusts them. They often help calm him down when he gets like this- on the edge, nerves on fire, cracks in the perfect image. 

He fears what people might say if they knew, how they would judge him, how it might reflect badly on Overwatch. He never asked for this position, never wanted it, but he had no choice. 

He did not live to disappoint.

It would be easier, he knows, just to hide behind what he can muster of an act, shut down the questions before they start coming, conceal the truth like usual. But he’s exhausted, tired of keeping everything bottled up, and there’s something about Jesse, something that makes him want to confide. He thinks it might be because Jesse often wears a mask, too. A different one, but a mask nonetheless.

The man doesn’t wear one now. Instead he gazes at him, an openness and vulnerability in his eyes as he lets out another puff of smoke, waits patiently for Jack’s next move. 

Jack takes a shaky breathe, adverts his eyes. “Sometimes.”

“I still get that way sometimes, before a mission. Commander Reyes usually helps me down from it, talks to me after, helps me process things. Ya got anybody to do that for you?”

Jack can sense the offer on the boy’s tongue. He smiles, the corner of his lips twitching. Damn his nerves. “I do. A few people, actually.” 

He doesn’t want to burden him. He can’t, anyway. There are too many things he can’t confess, and not just for personal reasons.

Jesse nods. “That’s good. You can’t keep everything bottled up inside. Or, ‘least that’s what the Commander told me.” He takes another drag, hand lowering slowly to rest on the railing. “If you need to vent or anything, now or in the future, just know I’m here. I won’t judge ya, and I can keep my mouth shut.” He smirks. “Reyes would make sure of that, anyway.”

There’s a pause as Jesse toes the ground with his boot, eyes shifting downward and smile fading. When he speaks, his voice is low, hushed. “He’s protective of you, you know? I know you two quarrel a lot, but he does seem concerned about ya. I hope you know that.”

Jack swallows the lump in his throat, feels his stomach twisting in knots. What calm he has managed to grasp at starts to flee once again.

It’s hard to think about Gabe nowadays. 

“I know.”

“But there’s a lot going on, ain’t there?”

Jack nods. The thought brings tears to his eyes that make his head ache with the tension of holding back. “Yeah. There is.”

Jesse shifts. “Figure you can’t say much about that. It’s fine. Only say what you’re able to...if you’d like.”

The offer is tempting, but he can’t think. His throat is tight and the sensation creates a surge of panic. He tries to focus on the movement of his hand, unsteadily clenching and unclenching. His breath shudders.

“M-maybe..... maybe some other time?” he manages.

Jesse looks at him sympathetically. “You need to be alone right now?”

Jack takes another breath, nods. 

It’s too much. He’s on edge. He doesn’t want the man to see him like this; doesn’t want him to witness it if the attack goes full-blown. 

Jesse nods, crushes out the cigarette. “If you need, I can wait in the hall?”

Jack shakes his head. “N-no, no, I’ll be fine.” _‘Please go. I can’t-’_

“Okay, I’ll get goin’ then. Hope your night improves, sir.”

Jack waits until he hears the door click shut, then he allows himself to sink to the ground, shaking hands reaching up to cover his face. He tries to take slow, deep breathes- they’re still too fast, too choppy, not enough. His body slightly rocks, forming a somewhat soothing rhythm.

He just wants this war to end. He wants peace.

But he is a soldier. And he knows that’s not an option.

His fingers dig into the rough fabric of his clothes. 

He simply has to keep on fighting.

There’s no other choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's anxiety has been extremely high lately..... ~~Let me rest.~~


End file.
